


aha self indulgent techno/mcyt-angst(chile now it’s not just angst-)

by thatdrownedrat



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:41:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 8,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28973766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatdrownedrat/pseuds/thatdrownedrat
Summary: !!different TW’s for every chapter!!TWs for this chapter; graphic depictions of violence, a bit of prejudice against hybrids, PTSD, panicked thoughts and feelings.actual summary;i don’t think anyone’s gonna read this but i’m archiving it here. you don’t get a summary.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 15





	1. i dunno

**Author's Note:**

> READ ‘SUMMARY’ FOR TW’S.

he flinched.  
they all knew now.  
they all knew how weak he was-  
they all knew he was broken-  
they all knew they all knew they all knew-  
and he couldn’t breath.

quackity, the one who had accidentally started the entire thing, held his breath and froze.

wilbur slowly put the carrot onto the spruce floor that he had been teasing techno with- calling him a piglet.

there was an eerie silence, where the only thing that could be heard was the short and fast breaths of technoblade.

“techno listen i am so sorry i didn’t mean to scare you and please let us know how we can help we’re so sorry we didn’t-“ quackity droned on, but technoblade couldn’t hear him. he could only hear the harsh whispers, and covered his ears instinctively much to the other two boys confusion.

but he couldn’t block them out.

they were in his head.

“technosupport”

“kill them”

“where are you?”

“we want blood”

and perhaps his least favorite, a high-pitched ‘eeeeee’, that didn’t stop. he could barely pick out a single voice- was it his own thoughts? did he even have his own thoughts anymore? he didn’t know, but all that singular voice said was that he had to get away.

he had to get out. it was too tight. he didn’t want to go with them. they couldn’t make him. he’d fight them- would they hit him with the fishing rod? he hated being hit with the fishing rod. it left terrible welts on his back the next day, and the audience didn’t like the portrayal of the pig man with welts- they preferred him with clear skin so they could get a better look to make a mockery of the hybrid.

without further hesitation, he made a bee-line for the door. shoving wilbur aside, he couldn’t process their words as he kept running. he couldn’t stop. he had to leave. he had to go-

“what are you doing?”

“eeeEeeeEEEEeee”

“technolame”

“skulls for the skull throne!”

with his breaths calming and the sun set, he collapsed miserably in the middle of a large meadow, no longer having the energy to move.

he would worry about tomorrow, well, tomorrow. for now he’d sleep. but before he dozed off, he whispered into the cool night air a singular statement.

“goodnight chat.”

and got a choruses of small byes, goodnight, and encouragements from the voices.

—end—

aha this moves really fast but just- it was nice to get out. i’ll probably be posting a bunch more random angst oneshots, but who really knows. no solid update schedule. commitment sucks. as does my writing but we don’t talk about that.

give me prompts if you want. i’ll basically do anything other than underage shipping. also only mcyt’s. cya later losers 💕


	2. wakawaka angst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: PTSD, implicated fear and terror, analysis of scars, mention of losing a 2nd life, panicked thoughts and feelings.  
> i don’t proof read my writing when i’m just writing for myself- so if there’s typos n stuff, o o p s.  
> actual summary;  
> tubbo firework ptsd make brain go brrr.

small basic scene: tubbos in the presidential suite on his bed pog

i swear i usually write up to 1-2K words but i’m lazy don’t judge me you cretins

—

tubbo held his small creeper-faced pillow over his eyes, desperately not trying to cry. key word, trying.

he couldn’t help it as tears of terror began falling down his face and his mind got foggy, not being able to tell the difference from the harsh thunder outside from the fireworks that had taken his second life.

he knew there was no rational reason to be scared- it was just weather. yet his brain kept reminding him of the star-shaped burn marks that littered his chest, and the particular one in the middle where the rocket itself had made impact.

he looked around his dark room, desperate for comfort or company in general. he even took the risk of glancing outside for anyone- quickly regretting his choice as he saw a sharp red firework explode in the sky.

tubbo slammed closed his windows, going back to his bed, ashamed.

ashamed that he was still scared. ashamed that he wasn’t the president he ought to be. ashamed that he had done everything wrong. ashamed that he hadn’t fought for tommy as he should-

it was too late now.

would tommy have comforted him?

god knows. for tubbo would

never find out, as he spiraled 

into a storm of fear.

—-  
omg reading over this i realized i was talking about storms and not fireworks and oH WELL.


	3. again.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw: rude parenting, verbal abuse,physical abuse, bad parenting in general, yelling, crying, hyperventilating.
> 
> small summary; tubbo bee hybrid, jschlatt is a centaur lmaoo, they’re also father son.

“dad i can’t- i already tried! i don’t know how to do it!” a small blonde boy cried. he couldn’t be more than eight, and tears were streaming down his face.

“try harder. you won’t be able to take on the bloody presidency if you can’t spell to save your life.” the father figure hissed, his back hooves stomping a bit in anger.

“but..please please dad, i already tried- i can’t do it and-“ the bee hybrid was cut off with a sharp slap to his left ear, as he resorted to buzzing softly as he spoke, in an attempt to calm the raging centaur.

“‘m sorry dad, i’ll try harder.” his small black antenna were releasing stress pheromones, but only other insect hybrids would be able to pick up on that, so he’d be safe letting them all out for now.

“that’s my son. you’re such a good boy, never giving up.” schlatt’s hand found its way into tubbo’s hair, coming through the black-striped locks. “you know i hate hurting you, but that’s the only way you’ll learn. i love you so so much. you now that, right?”

tubbo let out a soft buzz in response, leaning into his fathers touch slightly. his dad wouldn’t hit him without reason, he loved him. he just had to fix tubbo before tubbo messed even more things up.

“alright kid, so how do you spell manburg?” 

the question snapped tubbo out of his thoughts, and he quietly responded.

“m-a-n-b-e-r-g.” he wasn’t sure if he had spelled it right, but an icy fear grasped his heart as he saw the anger in his fathers eyes, over-layed by disappointment.

“no playing with that ‘tommy’ for a month. he distracts you from his studies, and it’s foolish of you to think he’d enjoy your miserable company. now buzz along, and go get ready. we have to attend the banquet in the honor of the newly appointed king eret.”

without waiting for a response, he strutted off, tubbo only letting himself breath once the familiar clicks of footsteps had gone silent.

he gathered up his book and quill, trying not to let his yellow tinted tears stain the pages.

if he was honest, he would much rather be beaten than lose time with his ocelot-hybrid friend.

—

the end.  
give me prompts if you want; will do anything except under-age shipping.  
wash your hands and stay safe,, cya losers 💕


	4. read tw’s pleeaaaseee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW’S: branding, burning flesh, graphic depictions of violence, cauterizing, de-humanization, disassociation, crying, selling hybrids, trauma,
> 
> read at your own risk, and stay safe  
> .>.

“hey techno, where’d you get this scar?” philza asked, pulling the shirt off techno’s shoulder a bit more, slightly startled to see what looked like a capital H in cursive.

***

“this him?” an old farmer asked, straightening his red shirt in front of the merchant.

“who else would it be?” the merchant responded back rather rudely, thrusting the end of two or three leads tied together into the farmers hand.

without any more speech between the two, the farmer handed the merchant 20 gold ingots in a small bundle, along with some type of enchantment book.

with eyes glowing greedily, the merchant grabbed the payment, shoving it into one of the bags on his train of llamas.

as he rode away, the pig hybrid couldn’t help but feel sick. he was basically wearing sack clothes, had no shoes, and was shaking. not shaking because of the cold, but rather from malnutrition and dehydration.

his legs could barely hold himself up, and he couldn’t resist letting out a low whimper as he was dragged to an old looking farm.

before he could process what was happening, he had been tied to a spruce fence. he took his time to glance around the inside of the farm, before looking at the farmer.

he could swear the three leads around his neck tightened.

the old man was humming an old nursery rhyme, and holding some type of black ore over a sharply burning red fire.

it wasn’t coal, he knew that, but it seemed to be stronger than iron according to the fact it hadn’t melted it.

he could feel himself going weak, and it took all of his strength to remain standing on his hoofed feet. 

out of terror, he managed to sputter out a sentence.

“uh-s-are you going to brand me with that?” the hybrid hated how weak he sounded- he sounded dumb. with his stupid stutter and almost calling him sir- why would he call him sir? he’a a farmer f-

he was startled out of his thoughts by a response. he hasn’t been expecting an answer.

“mhm. and you’re going to stay still while i do it. you’re not some hybrid, and most definitely not a human. you’re a pig. a filthy pig that’s going to help me do work on the farm. should probably tell you now that you are only to speak when spoken to,” 

And the farmer droned on and on about techno’s new diet, which would mainly consist of portioned water and raw potatoes, and all the chores he would have to do around the farm daily and in a timely manner.

the pig hybrid couldn’t focus though, as he spent all remaining energy on what was to come. he saw the farmer walking towards him, now with a glowing red stick, and began shaking a bit.

his vision grew fluffy, and he looked down at the floor. that was a nice piece of dirt. he wondered if it was podzol? but those only grow in spruce forests, he had learned that from one of the merchants talks-

the boy took a sharp intake of breath, as he felt a searing hot pain course through his entire body. when did he start crying-?

“that’s a good lad. good job staying still.”

the farmer slowly lifted the branding tool, dipping it in water before hanging it back on the wall.

“now, find a place to sleep in here. and if you leave, and ANYONE thinks that you’re just a hybrid, i promise by the sky gods that i’ll track you down with that little brand of yours.”

the farmer untied the leads, dropped them on the floor along with a few potatoes, and shut the door.

the poor boy was left in the dark, with the occasional bleeting of sheep and mooing of the cattle. he missed his home. did his mom still want him back? it was his fault for wandering too far from the bastion. he just wanted to get out of this wretched place.

but he was scared. terrified that the farmer would make deal on his promise and track him down. he’d maybe hurt him even more.

so as the moon was high in the sky, the pig hybrid was laying in the back of the cow pen, shedding an array of tears. why didn’t he listen when the stranger asked nicely to hire his services? he could’ve avoided this entire situation.

***

“i don’t want to talk about it.” technoblade quickly snapped, pulling away from philza and putting back on his armor quickly. he could feel his heart drumming in his chest, but thanked the blood gods that philza didn’t pry.

he could almost swear he could still smell burnt flesh.

———

aha so uh i just wanted to write this and i regret nothing.

also side note, i overused he and pig hybrid because technoblade didn’t have a name back then.

no proof reading i die like tubbo at the festival

i do take requests/prompts for anything other than underage shipping, so pog.

cya later loooosers 💕


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: tics, homophobic slur(s), panic, self-destructive behaviors, strong language, tic attack, 
> 
> small summary; tommy has tourettes syndrome. dream and george are getting plot married minecraft. tommy knows it’s gay, doesn’t find anything not pog with it, but the tics he represses each time he streams burst out of nowhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!!!!!!READ TWS!!!!!!!!!

“alright bitch booooys!” tommy nearly yelled, as he started his stream, clapping his hands together as he spun in his chair. his stream chat filled with hellos and welcomes, as tommy put his headphones on and got into steamer mode.

he quickly ran over what he had to do today, and mentioning it had to be quick, as he had to officiate something at the church today. he didn’t speak about it more, keeping the stream in the dark for the sake of entertainment.

after about a half hour of streaming, the alarm he had set on his phone went off. as toms heated the familiar chime of his phone, he desperately wanted to whistle along. but being on stream, he simply silenced his phone and looked at his camera with an evil glint.

“alright chat, it’s time.”

everyone in the chat went wild with theories, only momentarily going silent as tommy walked in the church of prime, with dream and george both in wedding dresses.

he tabbed in and out swiftly to join the call.

“heyyy guys! big man is here!”

there was a small chorus of laughs, as tommy took his place behind the lecturn. all was going well, but whilst the two men were reciting their vows tommy felt his knee fly up before he could rethink it, and slam against the bottom of his desk

he inhaled sharply in slight pain before realizing that (1), he was streaming (2), george and dream had gone quiet.

“i assume this means you have an objection as to why these two handsome man shouldn’t get married?” fundy teased a bit. toms knew it was just for the bit, so quickly went along with it.

“in fact i DO have a reason! yes yes yes!” tommy said, moving his minecraft character to stand on the prime bell.

he was prepared to launch into a speech on how dream had set up the wedding as a distraction and all that stuff, but as he opened his mouth he felt his shoulders hunch forward toward his desk, his head moving in the process as his teeth bit the edge of his tongue. he looked back at the minecraft game to see that everyone had frozen, and then back at the discord call.

why was everyone silent?

he didn’t see a single profile light up in green, and looked nervously at the chat.

every message read along the lines of:

‘what did he SAYYYY’

or

‘homophobicinnit’

and 

‘what happened with his shoulders?’

in a panic, tommy muted himself on discord along with turning off his cam, and replayed the past forty seconds of his stream to himself.

he felt his knees go weak and his brain go numb, as he heard himself, tommyinnit, yell the word ‘f*ggot’ at the top of his lungs.

he felt himself choking, and nervously began bouncing his wrist a bit. the discord call was still rather silent, as if everyone was waiting for tommy.

what did they want from him?

an apology? an exit? to continue like nothing happened? would they ban him? he’d definitely get banned from twitch for at least six months or something like that- should he apologize to the fans?

he was startled into reality when niki’s voice piped up.

“alright fans, on everyone’s streams, were ending the SMP early today. bye!” niki ended her stream, and everyone followed. 

finally, it was just the low hum of minecraft music. tommy couldn’t let this terrible peace stay. he wanted to explain, but every time he tried to talk his throat seemed to close and his vision blurred.

finally, eret’s voice came from the mic tommy had on his desk.

“are you alright tommy?”

panicked, scared, tired, nervous, ashamed, confused, betrayed, and so many more, tommy did the only thing he could think of.

he pressed the leave call button, and shakily sat on his bed.

he let the tics have their way, hitting himself multiple times in the process, and even punching a few holes in the wall.

when it was done, he couldn’t even think, and slumped on his pillow.

rather than sleeping, he was knocked unconscious by his fist connecting with his jaw.

—-

‘m making a part two of the after math.

no proof-reading we die like ranboo in his panic box

i take prompts/requests and do anything other than under-age shipping. cya later losers 💕


	6. continuation of chapter five pog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw; strong language, homophobic language, public shame, tics, tourettes
> 
> summary; i’m lazy. i’ll probably add in SOME comfort at the end of this chapter, but i make no promises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no proof reading author dies like wilbur at the tip of phils sword

—-  
tommy woke up to a searing pain in his jaw, and holes in his wall. he was confused for a bit, before the full force of last night hit him like a brick. instantly sitting himself up, he grabbed his phone and scrolled through twitter.

he felt sick when he saw that the number one trending in minecraft was tommyinnit.

opening the tag, he felt his breathing go shallow as he scrolled through dozens and dozen of clips of him saying the word ‘f*ggot’. the worse part is that they didn’t put in the clip mere moments before, where his shoulders had spasmed and his head nearly collided with his desk. 

there was no use trying to explain.

rushed and panicked, he posted a miserable tweet that read:

‘sorry for last night, i will be discontinuing streaming. do not expect me back any time soon.’ 

before he could go back, he hit the post button. he silently cringed as the re tweets and shares rolled in, shakily putting his phone face down.

toms managed to get to his chair, and hesitantly opened discord.

he was bombarded by pings and messages, and swiftly left all the servers he was in, not bothering to check the notifications from them.

well, he left them all except one.

the ‘dré SMP server’ it was affectionately nick named.

he got in general VC, and almost instantly dozens of others joined. tommy knew what he had to do.

“i’m so so sorry, i didn’t mean to say that, and i’m sorry, and i understand that you have to ban me from the server now and cut ties with me but i want you to know that i really am super sorry and i just..” his voice trailed off miserably, and the pounding in his heart only increased as he heard dream speak up.

“big man, calm down. no ones mad at you. do you want to tell us what happened?” everyone had assumed that tommy had internalized homophobia or something, but not that he dealt with tourettes on a daily basis.

he managed to weakly stutter out a response.

“sorry i-i have uhm- i have a lot of tics.” was all he said, before realizing that didn’t 100% mean he had tourettes syndrome, and that he’d have to clarify.

“as i-in like, tourettes.”

the discord call was silent for a few moments, and suddenly everyone began chiming in with support.

tommy couldn’t fully comprehend the words, but the soft tone everyone was using did rather sooth him, and he continuously mumbled thank-you to everyone.

but then the wretched question came up.

“do you want us to let your viewers know?”

on one hand, if they didn’t know, they’d all be outraged at tommy.

but on the other, tommy didn’t feel ready to share this information with anyone he knew, and telling his viewers would ruin him mentally even more.

“no thanks. bye guys, see you later.”

he quickly made his exit before anyone could protest, exiting discord and hesitantly opening minecraft.

he opened his first survival world, and fondly explored every crevice again. everything would be fine. tommy would be fine. it’d work itself out.

hopefully.

—-

i regret nothing B

i take any prompts/ requests but will not do under-age shipping. cya later losers, stay safe 💕


	7. schlatt angst ooga BOOGA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: type of self harm, horns go bye, suicidal thoughts n feelings, alcoholism, self depreciation, bad parenting, verbal abuse via parents, trauma.
> 
> small summary: angst snvsnsb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!!READ TW’S!!!

scene ish: schlatts sitting on the floor of the presidential office of the dream SMP.

—-

he exhaled shakily, placing down another emptied glass bottle. he hated himself for doing this. for intoxicating himself to the point where he doubted his own reality.

already grabbing another bottle, he let his thoughts wander to better times.

a broken smile appeared on his face as he ran his hands through his hair, hesitating for a moment when he felt his horns.

he clearly remembered his past life.

when he hadn’t met a single SMP member, and lived in the forest with the other half-elk.

they had horns that branched out like great oaks, and constantly decorated them with moss or flowers to impress others.

he also faintly remembers his mother.

he remembers the disgust on her face when his horns began to grow, they began sprouting straight up and slowly curving.

he remembers being chased around the house as his brothers screamed for his dad to calm down- his father had declared the genetic mutation as some type of curse placed upon his son by a witch.

he remembers having to dash out the house whilst his brothers wailed in fear.

they were so so small, maybe around five or six.

jschlatt would give the world to see their beaming faces again.

taking another swig from the alcohol, he shakily stood up. he had to take a moment to get the room to stop spinning, but other than that it wasn’t too bad. he caught his reflection in the white-stained glass that gave him an over view of man’burg, hesitating as he saw the horns.

he came to a conclusion.

he didn’t want them.

he didn’t want the wretched things that had ruined his perfect life.

he didn’t want them.

he didn’t. he wanted them gone. he wanted them off his head. he wanted them at the bottom of some ocean. he didn’t want to be known as the freak with horns. he didn’t- he needed to get them off. now.

stumbling over his own feet, he dug through an abandoned tool-box. man’burg was still going through reservations, after all.

jschlatt didn’t hesitate as he pulled out what he was looking for.

a hand-saw with sharp slightly rusted teeth.

he took one final look in the glass, and brought the saw right above his skull and his horn-

then, he began moving it back and forth swiftly.

his vision was a bit obstructed as a bone version of saw-dust began spreading around the room, but he ignored it. he just tried not to breath in too much of it- it couldn’t be healthy. but since when did he care about his health?

if he cared about his health, he would be at his sons spelling bee. tubbo was never the best at spelling, but the effort he put into it was amazing. he always seemed to rebound right back into the game when he lost. it was a wonderful thing to witness.

he was, admittedly, a bit startled as his horn fell clean off his head, and landed on the floor with a loud ‘thunk.’

good gods- what was he doing?

why’d he do that?

he loved his horns. they’re what made him the best. the coolest. no one else had horns like him.

well, ‘had had’ horns like him.

and of course, he had to make the other side match.

he brought the saw back up to his other horn, repeating the same process.

when he was done, his vision was foggy and the room was filled with wavering ink splotches.

feeling some type of wetness on his head, he brought his hand up to feel it.

he winced as he realized he sawed a bit too close to the nerves in one of his horns, and it was now bleeding. it would probably be okay though, he just needed to get a bit of rest. 

not wondering how we was gonna explain this to anyone, he chugged a last beer of the night, and collapsed on the office floor.

—-

op regrets nothing.

no proof reading author dies like ranboo to the circus llama.

(i take prompts/requests, i do literally anything other than underage shipping)

stay safe losers, cya soon 💕


	8. unsafe binding with techno

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tws: unsafe binding, gender dysphasia, slight panic, semi-detailed description of pain(s)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> read tws

techno trans techno trans techno trans-

—-

“alrighty chat, we’ve gotten most of our tasks done, did we forget anything?” he glanced at his chat, skimming the messages. 

his mind wandered a bit.

with the binder he has been using, it was to be used maximum of eight hours out of twenty four. he could feel his entire rib cage aching, and having to fight for a single breath of air.

but he couldn’t take it off.

or else- or else he’d be a she.

boys were supposed to be flat chested, and when he looked in the mirror he knew that he should be grateful- testosterone shots had done wonders for him, but top surgery was expensive and he’d never really looked into it.

oh right- he was streaming.

quickly turning his attention back to minecraft, he went in F5 mode while crouching, doing his signature exit, ending with a stretched out ‘bye.’

he ended stream and double checked it was ended, before letting out a hoarse cough. 

how long had he been wearing..it?

maybe about 50 hours?

that couldn’t be healthy.

but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“techno, ya there?”

he panicked for a moment, wondering if he had accidentally left his stream on, before realizing it was just philza in the discord call.

“yeaaap.” he responded curtly, moving his cursor over the ‘exit call’ button.

“wait wait hold on a moment techno, my chats wondering if your alright? that cough sounded pretty bad mate, you should prolly get that checked out.”

techno felt trapped. if he left now, everyone would be suspicious. on the other hand, if he stayed, he’d probably pass out.

“yeah it’s fine, just a bit of a cold. if it gets worse i’ll be sure to call in for a doctor, i do really have to go now.”

he didn’t wait for a response, clicking the end call button and shutting his screens down.

as soon as he was done with that, he sat on his bed and stared blankly at the floor.

he had to take it off.

but he didn’t want to. he really didn’t.

what would phil say? toms? wilbur?

he could clearly imagine the laughter and teasing, although he knew they wouldn’t really do that.

he opened his button-up shirt and gently ran his hand over the velcro that held his binder in place.

he slowly began opening it, ignoring the aching as his lungs fully expanded for the first time in a day, tears welling in his eyes a bit.

maybe he could even take a shower after this, or brush his teeth? he needed some type of meal too.

it would all be okay. he’s fine. no one is going to find out about his secret any time soon.  
—-

#no proof reading i die like jschlatt with a heart attack

i take requests pog, anything other than underage shipping.

wash your hands and bind safely, cya later losers 💕


	9. winged tommy? winged tommy.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw; blood, gore, graphic depiction of well..gore, injury n wounds, crying.
> 
> summary:
> 
> everyone in the dream SMP has wings. some are born with them, while others grow them when they’re 1-6 years old. everyone assumed toms just didn’t have wings, but what’s tommy supposed to do when he starts sprouting them at the age of sixteen?

read  
scene: tommy’s living in techno’s home, techno and phil are out mining, leaving toms to his own devices.  
—-

tommy took another bite of his rabbit stew, coming to the conclusion that he was sick. his head had been hurting all day, and his back aching miserably.

he pushed aside the unfinished stew, wiping the slight sweat that had formed on his forehead away. should he use his communicator to message phil and techno that they should come back to the base?

nah, they were probably busy anyways.

tommy made his way down to his make-shift room, letting out a sharp gasp of pain as he felt something that felt an awful lot like flesh being torn. did he pull a muscle? no, this hurt a lot more than that. 

now in the comforts of his room, he slipped off his shirt and felt around a bit.

he felt sick when his hand brushed over a particular part of bulging flesh, realizing it was the same on the other side.

were his wings coming in? he thought he wouldn’t get them- they were at least ten years late. all his muscles and bones weren’t suited to house wings- when your wings first sprouted it was supposed to be near painless, as the wings easily made their way through the skin slowly. 

with an adults help, you could be up and flying within twelve hours.

but tommy?

god, tommy wasn’t ready for this.

he immediately pulled out his communicator, messaging techno and philza a quick ‘come home quick bad come fast’, letting out a yelp of pain as his wings began forcing their way through his skin.

he could feel some type of ridge sticking out of his back, maybe the top central part of the wing?

he wanted to get a good look at his feathers, but he didn’t have a mirror and couldn’t tilt his head that far.

trying to remember his briefing over growing in his wings when he was around eight, he laid down flat on the floor and let his body do the rest, mentally preparing himself for then worst pain he would ever experience

*

“toms? toms where are you?” came techno’s loud booming voice as he opened the door to his home, rocket launcher in hand and philza right behind him with an enchanted netherite sword.

tommy could barely manage out a strangled groan, tears flowing freely down his face as he had given up on staying strong a long time ago.

techno’s sensitive ears picked up on the small noise, and he immediately dragged phil down to the basement.

the two both let out gasps of terror.

toms was basically covered in blood, and philza put two and two together quickly and realized he had to be blooming- but this late? 

the latest bloomer the SMP had on record was hbomb, at the age of seven.

and he had barely survived.

“techno i made some healing potions earlier there- there in chest B4.”

without hesitation techno followed phils orders, as philza assessed the situation. one of tommy’s wings was fully out, covered in a thick layer of blood, while the other wing seemed to be stuck and trying to come out diagonally.

all in all, not the best situation.

philza immediately got to work trying to ease out the other wing, instructing techno (who had come back down with the healing potion) to begin putting the liquid on the wing that was completely out.

all the while tommy was letting out sharp sobs of pain, just wondering when it’d be over.

there was a sickening crunch when tommy’s wing managed to fully bloom, which phil and techno both knew was the sound of a broken bone.

this was confirmed as tommy let out a shriek

((AN: almost typed shrek oh my god))

this was confirmed as tommy let out a shriek, attempting the scramble away from the two that his brain identified as then source of pain.

movement wasn’t very good for his wings, as the gash that techno had just managed to stop bleeding re-opened and resumed the steady drips of blood.

“get away! i don’t want it i don’t want them- stop it!” tommy rushed out quickly, stumbling to the floor.

techno quickly spoke up as philza tried to restrain the boy.

“tommy i need you to breath for me, alright? your wings are coming out, and if you don’t let us take care of it you’ll die.”

a glare was sent to techno by phil, but techno shrugged it off. he wasn’t going to sugarcoat his little brothers life.

tommy seemed to understand though, letting out a soft whimper and laying back on the floor. 

techno leaked his base coordinates in the main communication channel, ordering everyone to bring any first aid tools they had.

within minutes, the steady flap of wings could be heard as people rushed inside, everyone crowing around tommy. 

and that’s when tommy couldn’t take it anymore, and drifted off into unconsciousness.  
—-  
((AN: sike here’s extra))

tommy laughed happily, hiding behind a birch tree as tubbo searched for him.

the SMP had figured out why tommy’s blooming had took so long, when they rinsed off his blood stained wings to find a leathery pair of wings rather than a pair decorated with feathers.

tommy was the second person in the SMP to get leathery type wings, with the first being ranboo. luckily though, ranboo was born with his and didn’t have any complications. he was born from a dragons egg after all.

no one really questioned the fact tommy had different wings, and tommy ignored the fact that everyone had seen him at his lowest. 

admittedly, he was a bit sad he wouldn’t be able to partake in pruning sessions.

—-

the end fr this time

#no proofreading author dies like philza to a baby zombie.

if you made it here, congrats. wash your hands and stay safe, cya later losers 💕


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PTSD, mindset of gaslighting, time confusion, dehumanization, muzzling.
> 
> small summary:
> 
> fundy showed up when he was around ten. no one knew where on the SMP he came from, but they gladly opened their arms to him with no questions asked.
> 
> but maybe they should’ve asked a few questions.

!!READ TWS!!

—-

it had started as a joke.

they always start as a joke.

it was fundy’s birthday, and the SMP were putting all their differences aside for a night to celebrate the special occasion.

they all sat around a large table, fundy sitting on the end. after cake and singing, it was time for gifts.

dream got him a new pair of boots, techno got him an enchanted netherite hoe, captainpuffy got him a sparkling diamond, and the list went on.

and then quackity pulled a red box from underneath the table and slid it to the fox hybrid.

still riding the waves of joy and cheerfulness that everyone was giving off, fundy thanked quackity and put the box closer to him. the table had gone quiet, all knowing what was inside the box.

fundy felt himself mentally stumble when he slid the lid off the box to reveal an iron muzzle. an iron muzzle meant for training wolves or cats or foxes or- not fundy.

he hoped he didn’t do bad again.

with all eyes on him, he squeaked another quick thanks and closed the box. he was prepared to put it in the gift pile and get rid of it later. it had to be just a gag gift. they wouldn’t- they wouldn’t make him wear it. those days were behind him. he was good now. he didn’t need it.

that’s when he heard quackity’s voice.

“you’re not gonna try it on? i spent oh so long working on it!” it was meant to be friendly banter, but fundy didn’t see it that way.

they wanted to muzzle him.

he couldn’t do it- he could already feel his heartbeat speed up and his leg begin to nervously bounce under the table.

although this one certainly looked a dozen times more breathable than his old leather one, he still didn’t like the straps. the straps that wrapped around his neck like a suffocating rope- he didn’t want to wear it.

he hadn’t bitten anyone- had he been too confident with his actions lately? pushing jack off the bridge didn’t seem to hurt him, and the two laughed it off later. 

he couldn’t think of anything else he did wrong, but if they wanted to muzzle him it must be for a good reasoning.

fundy let out an awkward laugh, and reached for the box again, trying his best to stop his hands from shaking.

he couldn’t deny them- they might get upset if he did. he had to do it. he didn’t really have a choice.

he hesitated a moment as he looked at the modeled wire, brushing his claw over the black leather.

he grabbed the muzzle and looked down at his lap to put it on, tears beginning to pool in his eyes as he heard the giggles around the room. he noticed that this one didn’t have a lock on the back. maybe they’d let him take it off when he wasn’t around them?

when he finally had the equipment tightly around his head, he looked up at everyone.

the laughing dramatically quieted down when they saw tears falling from fundy’s eyes.

not being able to handle their gazes, fundy stood up, the terrible scrape of a chair echoing throughout the large building as he strutted out, tail slightly wrapped around himself as he tried to scrap together whatever dignity he had left.

he ignored the cries for him to wait and come back, tears obscuring his vision as he ran as fast as he could towards the spruce forest in the distance.

being half fox meant he could easily outrun the few people that were chasing after him. he didn’t understand why they were following him- he had put it on correctly, right?

or maybe it was just a prank.

something to have a few laughs at and then continue the night.

he wanted to believe that badly, but every part of his mind was screaming how idiotic that was. why would you make someone a muzzle just to have them never use it? why would you spend all that time wrapping it up in a beautifully decorated box?

now confident that no one was near or following, he slid down the trunk of an old spruce tree. feeling a bit secure, he let his flood gates break, and spent a good half hour crying his heart out to no one but the few wolves and foxes that passed by in confusion.

after having a good cry, he felt completely drained. the muzzle was still tight around his head, as he didn’t have the courage to take it off.

or maybe he didn’t want to take it off?

he probably needed it anyways. they were his friends, they wouldn’t give him something so horrid unless he needed it.

they were his friends. he trusted them.

he’d be alright. in the morning, he would go back and ask for forgiveness. fundy didn’t entirely know what he did, but he’d plead as much as it took to get them to reconsider muzzling him.

with those few sparse thoughts, he fell asleep with his tail lazily around his arm, and what he thought was a solid plan.

—-

no proofreading author didn’t die this chapter since they were standing in the holy prime lands.

remember that you MATTER. anything and everything you feel is one hundred percent valid. don’t be afraid to get the help that you need.

i take prompts and requests other than underage shipping ‘n stuff. cya later losers 💕


	11. techno pig

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tws; graphic depictions of fighting  
> —-
> 
> not really angst, but yknow

—-

technos breath caught in his throat as the piglins surrounded him. he had fully raided a bastion; taking all the piglins most prized possessions. to say they were enraged was probably an understatement.

technos eyes darted around as the crowd of piglins parted slightly to reveal a piglin brute, adorned with gold jewelry and metallic cuffs. he was obviously the leader. piglins were like wild animals, but brutes always had a higher understanding.

with a quick wave of the brutes hand, the piglins dispersed back into the bastion remnants, some still peeking out from broken bits of wall.

techno wasn’t sure what was happening- but it all felt oddly familiar.

the brute let out a huff, placing a golden nugget on the floor of the nether and pointing to techno’s pack, seemingly wanting all the things that he had ‘stolen’ from them.

techno felt some type of instinct scream in his head, as the voices began chattering.

‘our gold!’

‘we took it out of the bastion! it’s ours now!’

‘don’t let them take it!’

‘it’s not theirs anymore!’

‘fight! it’s ours!’

for once, he didn’t hate the voices suggestions as he gave in.

he let out a low guttural growl and the brute seemed a bit lost for a few seconds, obviously not expecting the piglin hybrid to decline an easy way out. however, he quickly responded with his own growl, and the two began slowly circling eachother.

the golden nugget now long forgotten, hoots and hollers could be heard from the bastion, cheering on their head pig. techno knew that they wouldn’t jump in though, it would be considered disrespectful to their leader.

the brute drew his axe which seemed to be enchanted, while techno drew out his own axe.

then, the fight began.

it began with the two running straight towards eachother like a game of chicken, neither of them hesitating as the sound of tusks being hit together rang throughout the area.

briefly stunned the two stumbled back.

techno swiftly recovered, swinging his axe at the brute, the voices screaming in joy when he landed a hit near his shoulder.

‘strike two!’

‘first mistake was challenging us!’

‘get him! get him on the neck!’

‘show his pack who’s the real leader!’

the brutes golden eyes revealed nothing but fury as he stuck his axes hold under the axe lodged into his chest and promptly dislodged it.

more cheers could be heard from the bastion as the two began circling eachother once again.

in all honesty, techno could’ve easily gotten out his netherite sword and completely demolished him.

but a part of him wanted to see the blood, a part of him wanted the adrenaline of fighting for the right to live. it felt natural, protecting his beloved loot from other scavengers.

the brute lunged towards techno, and techno quickly blocked his stomach, but let out a sharp gasp of surprise as the brutes hand shot out towards his ear.

he felt his stomach sink as he realized what was about to happen.

the brute wrapped his hoofed hands around the small emerald hanging from technos ear, letting out something that resembled a chuckle, as he yanked.

the pain- it was blinding.

but it also sent exhilarating shocks up his spine.

techno saw that the enemy had left his entire back open when he had lunged towards techno, and he took advantage of this when he wrapped his own hands around the back of the brute, flipping him over with ease onto the floor.

the brute was on an estimated thirteen hearts whilst techno was on eight.

he’d have to get a good combo if he didn’t want to have to go through the process of respawning.

not waiting a single moment for his foe to catch his breath, techno got a nice hit on the brute while he was down.

he must’ve been on ten hearts now.

the brute scrambled up from the floor, the first sign of fear showing in his eyes as he realized his axe had been thrown from him in the quarrel. he sent a squeal towards techno, standing perfectly still and revealing his neck.

techno recognized this as a sign of submission, but had to admit he was slightly disappointed.

testing, techno held his axe to the brutes throat.

the brute had taken something dear to him, and he felt the need to return the favor.

the hybrid, still holding his axe to the brutes throat, undid the golden cuffs that embraced the brutes arm. squeals of anger could be heard from the bastion, but the leader silenced them with nothing but a look. he understood that he had lost, and wasn’t in a position to bargain.

techno threw the beautifully crafted armor into his inventory, sweeping up the blood stained emerald that was laying still on the floor.

techno let out a final snort at the brute, before shoving him back towards the bastion.

the brute didn’t have to be told twice as the piglin began tending to his wounds, wanting him to go back out and finish the job.

however, even when the brute was at sixteen hearts, he gave techno a small bow and retreated back into his domain.

techno began making his way back to his portal, ignoring the urge he got to take over the bastion as the new leader. that was a job for a brute. 

and even if he was half human and half piglin, he didn’t really want to be adorned like that.

emerald earring in hand, he stepped through the purple whooshing of light that the portal gave off.

philza was definitely gonna scold him this time.

—-

no proofreading author dies like dream in the prison.

this was just an excuse to write a fighting scene as i’ve never written one before and was slightly intrigued. it’s not the best, but i still like it :]

stay safe, and cya later losers 💕


	12. i am but a mere simp (techno

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TWs: heritage disrespect, mean phil and toms ig, uhh mentions of acts of violence
> 
> —
> 
> summary;
> 
> technos about 65% piglin brute  
> he does a good job with human customs and speech, but old habits die hard.
> 
> (also 100 hits? thanks pog.)

—-

techno softy placed down the last golden ingot, letting out a small huff as he stepped back to enjoy his work.

there were at least four stacks of golden bars around his bedroom, and he could feel an inner part of him thrumming with joy.

‘gold! gold! gold!’

‘our gold. all ours.’

‘we did this! ours!’

‘don’t let them take it!’

‘it looks so shiny!’

he let a smile creep onto his face, taking a large inhale and exhale as he relished in his riches. sure, he had stacks of diamonds, but it could never come close to the exhilaration of finding gold.

he was so strong. he had all this gold, and he still had it. he had protected it. he hadn’t let anyone near it. except phil of course, but that was only to help count the stock.

he yelped as he heard a few knocks on the trapdoor, instantly preparing to defend his riches before he realized it was probably just phil or tommy.

still equipping his armor, he let out a “whadya waaant?” 

there was a brief silence as tommy burst through the trapdoor, and techno would’ve definitely decapitated him if his brain hadn’t kicked in at the last second. 

“it is i! big man, tommyinnit!” the young boy grinned at techno, a piece of pumpkin pie held in his hand.

tommy began explaining before techno could get a word on.

“phil baked some pie and told me to come drop some off to you so i...” tommy’s voice trailed off as his eyes wandered behind techno, in awe as he had never seen so much gold in the same room.

instinctively techno stepped in front of his vision, barely keeping himself from baring his tusks toward toms.

the voices were telling him that tommy wanted to take his gold, wanted to take it away and trade it. techno confirmed this himself as he remembered tommy constantly raiding his base for gear, potions, and golden apples.

the golden apples made him the most upset.

he had acknowledged that he had a distinct liking for gold, probably due to the fact he was half brute. he had a natural yearning for the sun colored ore, his mind telling him that he wasn’t strong if he couldn’t protect his gold.

“gimme the pie and get outa here already kid.”

techno reached his hand out for the pie, but tommy quickly drew back the plate.

“could i interest you in a bargain? a few gold ingots for a delicious slice of home-baked pie per-say?”

the brute wasn’t sure why he felt offended, but his hand subconsciously drifted towards his netherite axe.

tommy didn’t seem to notice, or just not care, until techno brought the axe fully out from under his cape. he wasn’t exactly fighting or going for a kill, just enough to scare him off from his gold.

‘our gold! don’t trade with a human, disgrace!’

‘bad trade anyways!’

‘get him out of our treasure room!’

for a few moments he came back to his senses, and looked at the fearful look on tommys face. he felt a flash of pity, and perhaps a bit of fear that he would hurt tommy, and barked an order at him.

“out. now.”

there was no argument as tommy slid the pie on the floor, nearly stumbling on the ladder as he went back to the kitchen.

techno sighed, running a hand through his pink locks, knowing that was definitely an over reaction. it was just gold anyways, it didn’t have any value outside of the nether.

so why did he want it so bad? why did he want to fight off anyone who even batted an eye at the gold?

putting his axe back in his harness, he could faintly hear tommy complaining to philza.

interested on what they were saying, he opened his trapdoor halfway with his boot and listened closely.

he felt himself holding back tears as phil talked about him like he was some type of animal.

“yeah tommy, it does that sometimes. it’s probably the fact ‘es half pig or something.”

techno bit back the urge to correct him. pigs were weak, piglins were average, but brutes were strong. he was strong.

“yeah i know phil, but i don’t get it! i was just joking around with him and he lashed out like a rabid wolf!”

the hybrid felt a wave of anger wash over him, having enough. this was his house. they weren’t living here. they didn’t have the RIGHT to talk about him like this in his own house.

“yeah i know, just try to ignore it until he goes back to being more human than animal.”

spite getting the best of him, he made his was down into the first floor, ignoring the tick of damage he took as he leapt down without using the ladder.

he snapped at them, adding in huffs of anger and growls every so often.

in his mind, he was telling them off and telling them to get out of his home.

but truly, he was letting out squeals and grunts at them, not recognizing he was using piglin speak.

the two, obviously not understanding, laughed it off and turned back to their baking.

upset and frustrated, techno grabbed tommy by his shirts collar, ignoring the whines of protest.

he didn’t register phil yelling at him and asking what he thought he was doing, as he bucked tommy out of the front door.

he turned to philza, and phil seemingly understood his predicament as he held up his hands and made his way around techno toward the entrance. 

that didn’t stop techno from slamming the door on phils face.

if they couldn’t respect him, his traditions, or his heritage, then he simply couldn’t keep them around anymore.

he watched through the window as the two strode off, ignoring the shaming looks he got from the two.

only when they were out of sight did he allow himself to calm down.

he wanted to take a trip to the nether. maybe see his old bastion again? he wouldn’t mind visiting the court and beating up the leader, only to simply decline when they surrendered and offered him the throne.

he began planning his small vacation, ignoring the empty feeling in his chest.

—-  
no proofreading author dies like niki when the flag was burnt down

two updates on the same day, both hybrid techno fics? i wonder what the author is obsessing about right now hmm 

wash your hands, cya later losers 💕


End file.
